


Voyage

by whetherwoman



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: M/M, Multi, Yuletide, challenge:New Year Resolutions 2008, past dubious consent, recipient:Celandine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-28
Updated: 2008-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetherwoman/pseuds/whetherwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How boys become men and kings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voyage

"No," Edmund murmurs. "Not now, Caspian."

"Quiet," Caspian murmurs back. "Let me."

Edmund sucks in a breath. "Ah—just—he's right there—"

"He's asleep, I checked." Caspian bends his head to Edmund's neck, his tongue flicking out hotly. "Just—don't make a noise, let me—"

Edmund bites his lip, his whole body taut, trying to keep in the moan that reverberates in his throat as Caspian slips into his hammock. Caspian's mouth is hot on his ear, his neck, his collarbone, and Caspian's body rubs against his with a grace Edmund has only seen in Narnia. Something about sword fighting, most likely—or just one of the many things that he's only seen in Narnia, only here—

"Hush," Caspian whispers, and Edmund swallows the small noises in his throat and grabs at Caspian's hips.

This is the first time they've done this in their cabin, with Eustace only a few feet away, and Edmund feels like his blood itself is louder than usual. Caspian is trembling against him, and Edmund tries to move slow and steady, twisting one hand between them to fumble with their trousers. The measured rock of the ship slides them together and Edmund tries to slow his breath to match it. It's difficult with Caspian's hips sliding against his, sweat springing up where their skin touches, Caspian's tongue on his skin.

Caspian makes a small noise as Edmund finally gets their trousers open and their pricks slide against each other. They both freeze, listening, waiting for any sign that Eustace has heard them. It's been four days since Dragon Island and Eustace's change of character, but Edmund has no delusions that Eustace's newfound reasonableness would extend to—to something like this.

But Eustace makes no sign of stirring, and Edmund can feel the beat of Caspian's heart straight through his chest. Caspian squirms against him, rolling his hips so Edmund has to throw back his head and try to pull Caspian even closer. It's always overwhelming, it has been overwhelming since the first time, only a few weeks ago.

* * *

They were two weeks past the Lone Islands, the storm safely behind them, and Edmund and Caspian were lying on the deck behind the ship's boat looking up at the stars. They had been trading stories about the constellations. Edmund's tales were fresh in his memory, but ancient history to Caspian. Caspian's stories were from Doctor Cornelius, told to him in the rare intervals between learning the history of old Narnia and making plans for the new one. In the calm the ship was caught in, even at night the air was stiflingly hot and both boys had taken off their tunics.

After a while they fell quiet, out of stories but content to be near each other.

"Edmund," Caspian said hesitantly, breaking the silence. "When you and your brother and sisters were Kings and Queens of Narnia, did you—how did your lords and knights swear fealty to you?"

Edmund squinted up at the stars. "They swore an oath in front of all the court, to the High King and to all of us and to Aslan. Sometimes, if there were quite a few at once, we had a banquet afterwards."

"Ah," Caspian said.

Edmund pushed himself up on one elbow. "Were you thinking of something else? I may not be remembering it all—we could ask Lucy tomorrow."

"No," Caspian said uncertainly. "Well, not really. I had an idea that—I don't know where I heard it. It was probably just a story."

"Spit it out, then," Edmund said tolerantly, lying back down and closing his eyes.

He was surprised to feel Caspian's hand on his cheek, and then a second later to feel Caspian's lips gently brush his. Edmund's eyes popped open. Caspian was leaning over him, a worried frown creasing his forehead but his hand still touching Edmund's cheek.

"No," Edmund said softly, and Caspian jerked away. "No, I don't remember ever doing that."

"It wasn't just that I heard about," Caspian said in a rush, not meeting Edmund's eyes. "It was that and—and more, to show loyalty of the body and soul, and I want—Edmund, even if that wasn't how you did it before, do you think—could I—Could we, Edmund?"

Edmund sat up slowly. Caspian looked miserable, like he wanted to look at Edmund but couldn't make himself do it. Edmund carefully reached out and touched his shoulder. "It would be a bad idea."

"I know," Caspian said wretchedly. "But I want to, and—and I'm tired of not being able to do what I want to do. I thought it would be different once we brought Old Narnia back, once Miraz was gone and I was king, but it's not, not at all." He raised his eyes hopefully to Edmund's. "You know what it's like—everyone telling you what you can and can't do, all the rules and responsibilities."

"I do know," Edmund said quietly. His mind was rushing a mile a minute, pros and cons flicking in and out of his head. His lips still tingled.

"There's no harm in it," Caspian said, inching closer. "No one will know. No one's on deck now, and none of the lookouts could see us behind the ship's boat here."

Edmund bit his lip and struggled with himself a moment longer. But Caspian moved closer, until their chests were almost touching, and Edmund did know what it was like to think you were a king and find out you were still only a boy. He drew Caspian's head to him until their lips met again.

And then Caspian was on his back and Edmund was on top of him, and they were biting at each other's mouths with sweat running hot and slick between them. Edmund's hips snapped forward as Caspian worked a hand between them and he muffled his harsh gasp in Caspian's neck.

"Have you—before?" Caspian gasped, not pausing in his efforts to reach into Edmund's trousers. "Here or—in your own world?"

Edmund barked a laugh. "Not here, not—but yes—Caspian—it's different here." And it is very different indeed, Edmund thought somewhat incoherently as Caspian's hand closed on his prick. He rolled to the side, taking Caspian with him and shoved both their trousers down until he could grasp Caspian in return, both of them thrusting into each other's hands.

After all, he thought as his body tensed, he'd followed through with bad ideas before. He'd done worse. And there was no sickly taste of Turkish Delight on his tongue this time; there was only Caspian's strong sweet breath and the smell of them both intermingled as they spent in each other's arms.

* * *

Edmund tries to hear whether they're making too much noise, to quiet himself and Caspian, but the roar of his blood and breath fills his ears in the tiny space of the cabin.

Until Caspian whispers, "Listen," and suddenly there's nothing to hear but his voice. "I thought we could—do you want to—" He starts pushing at Edmund's hips, trying to turn them over. "What you talked about—you remember—" And yes, Edmund remembers and turns willingly, trying to suppress a shiver of anticipation and a little fear. He had done this before, or rather had it done to him, and he wanted to try it in Narnia, with Caspian, where everything was different and better. He was almost sure he wanted to.

Caspian is behind him now, his hips making tiny jerks into Edmund's arse, his prick rubbing Edmund's back. This is as far as they've ever gotten, and Edmund feels his breath coming shorter.

"Should I—what should I—" Caspian mumbles into his neck, his hand slipping hesitantly over Edmund's stomach.

"Just—" Edmund tries, then gives up on words and grabs Caspian's hand. He pulls it up to his mouth and sucks on Caspian's first three fingers. They are long and slim, calluses from sword and sail rough against Edmund's tongue. He hears a choked sound from Caspian, and Caspian's prick slips between his cheeks, slick with sweat.

"Now put—put—" Edmund says as he takes Caspian's fingers from his mouth, shoving his hand down again. Caspian squirms back a bit and fits the tip of one finger right where Edmund wants it. Edmund closes his eyes and tries to relax.

It feels like—like Caspian is turning him to putty, reshaping him in an entirely different form. He feels like he's no longer connected, like his arms are across the room and his legs belong to another person entirely. Every other time he's done this, he's been trying so hard to keep himself together, to keep himself separate from everything around him. To feel himself expanding now, filling the whole room, the whole ship—he wants to keep going, to expand until he fills all of Narnia. He is both the whole world and a single point around two, then three of Caspian's fingers.

Then the fingers are gone and Edmund feels himself shaking as if there's nothing to hold him together. He thinks Caspian says something as he moves closer, maybe the word "King—" but he can't think about it, because sweat is springing to his skin and his breath is catching and the closest thing he's ever felt to this is when Aslan looked him in the eye except that this is completely different and Caspian is pushing into him.

* * *

They had talked about it, back before Dragon Island, in the first rush of discovery of how their bodies fit together. Neither of them had slept well in the heat, and one night Edmund woke to realize Eustace wasn't there.

"Caspian?" he murmured, living his head.

"Mmph," Caspian said, then woke up all the way. "Oh, he's gone, is he? Shall we mount a search party or see if he's fallen over the side?"

"No," Edmund said, and got out of his hammock. "I've got a better idea."

"You have, have you?" Caspian said, amused, and made room as Edmund wiggled in next to him. "We should make it quick—he could be back any minute."

"No," Edmund said again. "I have—I've wanted to try something." He leaned forward for a kiss, and before Caspian could say anything he moved his mouth to Caspian's ear and whispered what he meant in harsh words, the only ones he knew.

Caspian went very still. "Are you—that sounds very—you've done it before?"

"Sort of," Edmund said helplessly. "I told you it's different here. I want to—I want it to be different." He didn't know how to explain boarding school, the power gained and lost every night by someone in someone else's bed. It's like a war, almost, like the battles he waged and won as King in Narnia, but secretive, malicious, leaving bile in his throat. He wanted clean Narnian combat, a fight that he could throw himself into and know if he won or lost.

"I would, if you wished it," Caspian says hesitantly, his hands coming to rest on Edmund's back. "I will—I want to prove myself to you. With you," he adds as Edmund starts to shake his head. "I know you don't need me to. But I need to, to—get something of what makes you king. Even now—you're young again, but you are so much king, Edmund, I want that, I want—"

And that was when Reepicheep caught Eustace stealing water and they had to go up on deck and handle the situation the way kings must.

* * *

Caspian is all the way inside Edmund now, rocking back and forth in tiny increments that reverberate from Edmund's head to his toes. He can feel Caspian's fingers pressing deep into his skin, then sliding forward. He lets out an involuntary gasp as Caspian's fingers close around his cock, and his eyes pop open—

—and meet Eustace's eyes, looking directly at him. He freezes but Eustace makes a noise and jerks, and a shaft of moonlight falling into the room as the ship rocks clearly shows Eustace's hand, dripping with liquid.

"What—" Edmund says stupidly, and he feels Caspian freeze behind him as he sees Eustace as well. But Caspian gasps and jerks forward, shocking a cry out of Edmund, and then Edmund can feel Caspian twitching inside him.

The three of them are frozen like that for a moment, Caspian's hand still on Edmund, and then Eustace gets out of his bunk and moves towards the hammock. With a shock, Edmund realizes what he's about to do.

"Don't—Eustace—"

"I know," Eustace breathes, crouching before him. "It'll never happen again, I promise." And he leans forward to take Edmund in his mouth.

Edmund feels like all the breath is sucked from his lungs as he arches back, feeling Caspian twitch once again inside him as Eustace surrounds him with heat and wet and—oh—suction—

He spends in Eustace's mouth and comes back to himself gasping, but suddenly calm. Everything seems clear, everyone plain before him like the stillest lake. Eustace, cheek now resting against Edmund's thigh, trying for the first time in his life to reach for something greater than himself. Caspian, behind him but with both arms and a leg wrapped around him, hiding from a kingship he never honestly thought he'd hold. And himself, boy and king, Edmund the traitor and Edmund the Just—the three of them are suddenly shaped into a triangle and he is at the front, pointing the direction they all must go.

He feels Caspian's breath deepen and his limbs relax. Edmund extricates himself carefully and helps a half-asleep Eustace back to his bunk, then slips into his own hammock, trying to ignore the slick feeling between his legs. Like his previous journeys in Narnia, this voyage had changed him. He would not go back to his aunt and uncle, nor back to school, as anything like the same person.

Each breath of Narnian air that fills his lungs also fills him with more certainty: this will be his last trip to Narnia. Eustace will be back, and will no doubt discover a hero inside himself. Caspian will be a real king eventually, although Edmund knows he will struggle with it. But Edmund—Edmund has to grow up again, and for the first time in two years he is almost sure he can do it.

He lies awake a long time.

  
   
Read [posted comments](http://www.yuletidetreasure.org/archive/58/voyage_cmt.html).  



End file.
